


mildred's list

by cleardishwashers



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Post-Canon, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-23 21:06:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21087827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleardishwashers/pseuds/cleardishwashers
Summary: mildred's list of chores is only so long.





	mildred's list

He finishes off Mildred’s list of chores in the first three weeks after he comes home, and his knees ache and his feet hurt but Mildred serves him piping-hot cherry pie and they rock on the creaky-no-longer porch swing together, and he thinks that it’s worth it.

He gets restless, though, even though he thought he wouldn’t. Korea had been different from Europe— same penniless children, same bloodied boys, but  _ different, _ because in Europe he’d never seen anything like the tactics, the weapons used in Korea. He’d thought that coming home would’ve been different this time around, and he feels the sting of shame in his throat when he realizes that he wants to be  _ doing _ something again.

He builds a stable and gets a horse and replaces the sink and buys a new television, and when he finally sets to darning his old socks, Mildred sits him down and tells him that she’s invited his unit to stay with them for a weekend. “Mildred, I don’t need you coddling me,” he tells her.

“It’s not coddling, Sherman, it’s  _ helping,” _ she says, with a tone so firm that God Himself couldn’t shake her. His wife is a smart woman. He believes her.

That’s the end of it, and he honestly forgets about it until Klinger and Soon-Lee show up at his door with smiles brighter than the sun. “Colonel!” Klinger cries. “You look radiant!”

“You two aren’t lookin’ so bad yourselves!” he replies, stepping back to invite them in.

Over the next twenty-four hours, everyone else slowly trickles in— Winchester arrives next, bearing whiskey, then it’s Radar, bearing apologies for “bein’ so late, sir, the car broke down an’ we had to see a mechanic,” and then it’s the Father, whose hearing has been restored, then the Hunnicutts (sans Erin, but with a familiar dark-haired hunchback in tow), who all converge on him at once, and finally Margaret, who’s the only one who bothers with a military salute before hugging him. There’s almost a row over the sleeping arrangements— Margaret refuses to share with anyone, and so does Winchester— but Mildred sorts it out with extra bedrolls and no blood is shed, and then there’s no conflict for them to bond over or fight over.

“So, how’s everyone been doing?” Hawkeye says, with a geniality that’s far too sincere-sounding to  _ not _ be sarcastic, but Sherman decides to let it slide.

“Obviously better than  _ you,” _ Winchester replies, casting a glance at Hawkeye’s worn flannel. Of course. How could Sherman think that there could ever be an absence of conflict with them?

“It’s a  _ farm, _ Major Chucky,” Peg Hunnicutt says, her good-natured smile softening the words. The rest of the group snickers, even Margaret.

“Be that as it may, there’s still something to be said for dignity.”

“There’s also something to be said for loosenin’ up a little,” Sherman tells him.

“Hah.”

“Yeah, live a little, Chuckles!” BJ says. “God knows it’d do you some good!”

“And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?”

Really, how had he ever thought there wouldn’t be fighting?

The weekend is a blur, and then Margaret is off, then it’s the Father and Klinger and Soon-Lee, then Winchester and Radar, and then finally the Pierce-Hunnicutts. “Pierce,” Sherman calls as they load up their car, “lemme talk to you for a minute.”

Hawkeye bounds up the porch steps. He looks strangely changed, his face fuller, with more smile lines than frown lines. Even so, his shoulders are still hunched, his eyes hardened, his hair streaked with grey. “You and Hunnicutt—” Hawkeye stiffens up at that, and Potter smiles sadly— “you two figured it out, then?”

Hawkeye relaxes. “Yeah. Yeah, we did, Colonel. And you— you’re good, right?”

Sherman wishes he could tell Hawkeye to stop caring so much about every damn thing, but it’s what got the boy through the war— what, in part, got  _ all _ of them through the war. He keeps his mouth shut. “Yeah, Hawkeye. I’m fine.”

Hawkeye looks unconvinced. “You sure?”

“Nothing a few chores can’t solve, son.”

Hawkeye peers closely at him, and Sherman wonders when the tables turned and  _ he _ became the scrutinized one. Maybe Hawkeye’s been doing it the whole time— God knows he went through enough before Sherman showed up to turn him from a twentysomething kid into a man who’s seen enough for a lifetime. “You know, the Army could use someone like you to help with the relief work in Korea.”

“You think?” Sherman asks. The notion seems laughable, but if he pokes at it a little deeper, he wonders if he  _ could. _

“I  _ know.” _ Hawkeye looks at him with that same melancholy smile for another half-second, and then he breaks and goes in for a hug. It’s always a little awkward hugging someone eight inches taller than yourself, but Hawkeye is easy to pull close to him, the gangly limbs collapsing a little.

“Take care of yourself,” Sherman tells him. “And I’m expecting a visit every year, at the least.”

“Yessir,” Hawkeye says. “We’ll call when we get home.”

“You do that, son.”

He watches the three of them drive off, waving, and he wonders why he misses them as much as he did the first time.

“What did he tell you?” Mildred asks that night over dinner, her eyes telling him that she has her own suspicions.

“He told me that I’d do well supervising the relief effort,” Sherman replies.

“He’s right, you know.” Mildred smiles at him from across the table, and even though there are seven empty spots at the table, his heart is full.

**Author's Note:**

> the incomparable @justalittlegreen prompted "Mulcahy finds purpose after the war. Or potter. take your pick." sorry it's 113 days late!!


End file.
